


nothing like myself

by teavious



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 04:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9055579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teavious/pseuds/teavious
Summary: Maybe it’s the freshness of this information, how the closer he gets, the more things to like about this man, about his mind he can find.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pugkun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pugkun/gifts).



The Institute smells like ash on some evenings, steps silent on stone cold stairs, shadows looming. The fires started, the small groups gathered in corners, muttering, make the atmosphere a little more familiar, but there’s no doubt that it’s not welcoming anymore. Gellert Grindelwald sits alone, away from them all, and keeps his fists deep in his pockets, hiding the blood on his finger, the grin on his face lost in the folds of his coat collar.

He is certain of two things about Durmstrang and the people gathered in this place. One: they suck, with their willingness to follow rules that are centuries old and not doubt everything is said to them. Two: they fucking suck, when they’re forcefully reinforcing these rules on his work.

There are some barriers you can step over: borrowing some books with questionable titles, only a certain numbers of magical creatures disappearing at the same time as your walks. The way in which Grindelwald does and dreams things, _too much_ , is hard to accept for most people. For the Durmstrang Institute, it’s a mistake that costs exactly a future.

On a winter evening, Grindelwald leaves the school which did nothing to sate him or his curiosity, with a wand hidden in his boots, ripped pages of angry journals and banned books in his pockets. It’s the only things he wants to keep: the source of his magic, strong and still able to take over the world, and the words filled of frustration that strengthen his resolve.

 

* * *

 

Albus Dumbledore knows two things about the small town where he gets stuck in when he’s seventeen: Gellert Grindelwald finds it as unimportant as he does, and yet it starts a revolution. In both Albus’ heart and the world.

 

* * *

 

His aunt is certainly something else. Nothing like the stern teachers at Durmstrang or the whispering, scared schoolmates, but not that different from his estranged family or distant magical peers. The best _(worst)_ thing she’ll ever do in her life is bringing him in a restaurant one day and promising him the best _(worst)_ companion.

Despite her reluctance to know her nephew’s activities, she seems almost eager to give him something to distract him. It’s been days of being locked in his room, mapping the location of each magical item in this town, of devouring title after title from her library and it’s unnerving to see him so focused on being lost. And while he’s purposeless, he’s never done, and he thinks he can go on like this for quite a long time, still. In a small part of his mind, of this twisted, ever smaller heart, he’s glad he won’t have to do it all on his own.

 

* * *

 

Albus Dumbledore takes ten minutes to finish the chapter he’s been reading since the night before to actually acknowledge the young man in front of him, making a slow and deliberate show of sipping his tea, taking a bite of his biscuit. They stare openly and shamelessly, measuring up each other. By the time their eyes meet, after what feels like years for both of them, there’s a small but eager smile at the corner of Albus’ mouth, and he’s glad to find it mirrored on Gellert’s face.

When they clamp their hands together, a friendly gesture, a first step to the bond that’ll unite them, Albus’ hand is very warm, the way in which he stares at their fingers, touching, hopeful.

 

* * *

 

Grindelwald is young and blazing with fading enthusiasm towards what he can do in the world. So young and yet so seemingly defeated; it seems like everything has been set, nothing can be changed. The air around him is stifling with restrained magic, dark and more looming than young Albus has been used to, and maybe that’s what draws him in. Or the contrast it makes with the way his whole face lights up the hours they get to spend together, heads bowed together over paper, each with a quill ready in their hands, each idea more daring than the other.

But not even young Dumbledore is deaf or stupid enough not to hear what everyone is saying about his new friend, though the way they say it could never rival the way Grindelwald paints his hopes, in words that can almost conceive them right in front of his eyes. _Tainted_ , they call one of the most brilliant minds he’s ever met, and he wants to scream at each and every one of them, because they don’t know a single thing.

Albus looks at Gellert once; and it’s enough to make him believe he deserves the whole world.

 

* * *

 

“You know, we might actually be the greatest wizards to come. We can make history.”

It’s idealistic and ambitious, but as time goes by, it’s proven to be less and less impossible. Magic bends to their every will, magic breaks under their hands and words, and it’s the kind of power that makes one drunk with possibility.

They’re in Grindelwald’s bedroom, the floor covered in documents and Albus’ neat handwriting and drawings. At times, it feels like they’re playing at being heroes, but it only lasts to the next magical feat, to the next fluttering touch of Gellert’s hand at his nape. Albus isn’t sure he even breathes at times like this, isn’t sure what win will satisfy him more: a rule over weaker humans or remaining under his _friend_ ’s touch for just a little more.

When Grindelwald mimics for him to get closer, it’s the only thing he can do, and he wonders dumbly if it is some kind of magic involved as well. It still makes him sick to think he can act like that, with nothing but admiration ( _love_ ) in his heart. This close, laying on the bed with mere centimeters apart, he can see the movement of Gellert’s skin as a smile blooms on his face, can see the stubble growing at his chin, a curl of his hair that sits against all the others.

Maybe it’s the freshness of this information, how the closer he gets, the more things to like about this man, about his mind he can find. It makes him dizzy, and that’s why he can’t see Gellert’s hand moving to his face, cupping it. There’s heavy silence between the two, but Albus has never wanted one to continue as much as this one.

“Why are you doing this, Albus?”

Grindelwald’s voice is controlled, if a little bit higher than his usual controlled tone, but his finger is rubbing Albus’ cheek, leaving red blush in its trail.

“For the greater good.”

Gellert leans closer, the smell of mint and iron engulfing both of them. “Keep lying to yourself.”

He bites Albus’ lips when he first kisses him.

 

* * *

 

But when he smiles, gods. When Grindelwald smiles, it feels like anything is truly possible.

 

* * *

 

Conflict of interests. Years down the road, Gellert Grindelwald will call a duel by this name, so he won’t fall under the guilt of having destroyed everything he had managed to care about. Twisted and dark love, forceful and needy, but it has been _love_. At least he is brave enough to call it by its name, consequences damned.

If you become the strongest magician of your time, kisses and touches lost between sheets, behind closed door, stop having a meaning. The saddest thing is that Albus wants ( _wanted_ ) the same end result as him, but he’s willing to make fewer compromises, to throw blames at those who can take it.

Grindelwald will receive even punishment, hate and hunting, if that’s what his old ( _best_ ) friend wants.

 

* * *

 

At times, when Albus’s hands are covered in potions or powder, he can see only dark, thick blood. At times, when he talks with his brother, he can only stop the need to throw up.

 

* * *

 

When Newt( _on_ ) Scamander opposes him, Grindelwald takes a while until he finally understands Dumbledore’s fondness for this failure of student.

Newt is him, if nothing has gone wrong. 

**Author's Note:**

> Christmas present for one of my friends ~  
> Thank you for reading this! The truth is that I'm not that familiar with the fandom, but I still hope I made the characters justice. This fic certainly reminds me of my earlier writing style....


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